


Fuck Me I'm Drunk

by The_shadows_of_my_mind



Category: Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Angry brother, Angst, Attempted Murder, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1418858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_shadows_of_my_mind/pseuds/The_shadows_of_my_mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What started out as a simple drunken meeting between the Vicomte and the Phantom may turn into something neither ever would have expected. Rated M for later chapters. COMPLETE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Erik groaned quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat in the shadows of Box 5. It was all wrong...The singing (Apart from his Christine, of course), the dancing...Everything! The Phantom sighed, vowing that he would have to speak to Andre and Firmin after the rehearsal was over. He slumped back into his seat; wincing as yet another dancer nearly tumbled off the stage. These “dancers” couldn’t even learn the simplest routines. He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t hear someone climbing up the stairs to his box. Only when a young man cleared his throat and knocked on the back of a seat did the Phantom jolt and turn.

A young man with blond hair stood in the doorway, his bright blue eyes wide. The boy stumbled backwards slightly, blinking often and quickly. He staggered forward, moving slightly closer to the Phantom “So, the rumors are true” he lightly slurred. Erik scowled at Raoul, angered that he had been discovered, until he noticed the half empty bottle in the boy’s hand. “Celebrating, Vicomte?” Erik said with a slight smirk, turning his attention back to the Opera. Raoul raised a skeptical eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. “You know who I am?” Erik gave a dark laugh “Of course I know who you are. I can’t go about know knowing who funds _my_ opera house” he said, watching as a few of the chorus girls bumped into each other during the course of their routine “Insolent fools” he muttered under his breath. Raoul took another swig of wine “Not enjoying the show?” he inquired, moving to sit in the seat beside Erik.

Erik looked up with a half amused air, shaking his head with a sigh “Nothing is going right in this damned show...” He muttered. Raoul grinned like a child, nudging up against Erik’s shoulder. “I have an idea...” The Vicomte said in a ridiculously sing-song voice. “Will it make you go away?” Erik asked in a complete monotone voice. Raoul rolled his eyes, holding up the now empty bottle. “You, monsieur...Need a drink.” “Mon dieu...” “Non non non! Hear me out! A game, we’ll turn it into a game! Umm...Each time something you like comes on stage...You drink!” Raoul said with a grin. Erik groaned, cupping his head in his hands. “One problem, Vicomte...You’re out of wine.” Raoul blinked, looking down at the empty bottle in his hands before laughing.

“That’s where you’re wrong my spectral friend!” “Don’t call me that...” Erik huffed as Raoul leaned forward, pawing around in the dark before coming back up with a fresh bottle. The Phantom blinked in slight surprise as the fop cracked open the bottle and sniffed the contents. “Where did you-? Never mind...” Raoul snickered again as he looked around “You wouldn’t happen to have a glass on you?” He asked, hiccupping. “What do you think Vicomte?” “Probably not....Then straight from the bottle it is!” Erik groaned, cursing under his breath as he and the fop both turned their attention to the stage, watching with keen interest.

After only 10 minutes, Erik came to realize that he simply despised the boy seated next to him. Every time something shiny or colourful came on stage, Raoul would gasp or giggle and clap his hands quietly, then take a quick shot out of the wine bottle that had rarely left his hands. The only time Erik would pry the dusty bottle out of the boy’s hand was when his Christine would come on stage to sing. Raoul would of course snatch the bottle right back and take a long bite. “Are you sure you’re alright Vicomte?” Erik asked after the show ended.

“Perfectly fine monsieur, why do you...Oh!” Raoul slurred, jolting up in his seat with a drunken smile “Your eyes! They’re so...” He twirled his hand in the air, leaning on the armrest while searching for the word that described the Phantoms golden orbs. “Prettyful!” He said at last, grinning ear to ear. He suddenly lost his grip on the armrest and toppled into Erik’s lap, laughing like a mad-man. The Phantom yelped, cursing quietly as he shifted to try and throw Raoul’s weight off of him.

“Get....Off...” Erik growled, his features darkening. Raoul looked up innocently, and then nuzzled into Erik’s lap, causing the Phantom to bite back a groan. “Get off of me Vicomte or Lord help me...” Raoul pouted slightly, shaking his head. “Nope!” He said stubbornly, sticking out his tongue. Suddenly, the Vicomte fell limp, his head lolling to the side. Erik blinked, gently prodding the boy’s side and huffing when he found the other had passed out. He looked around at the darkening theater and sighed, shaking his head with a small smile as he lifted the boy off his lap and set him back in his seat.

“Insolent fool...” He muttered with a small smile as he made to exit the box.


	2. Chapter 2

 Mme. Giry sighed, making her way up to Box 5 with Erik’s payment clenched tightly in her fist. Muttering softly to herself, she drew back the curtain and froze in her tracks, the colour draining from her skin. She grasped her cane tightly, poking the form that lay curled up in one of the seats. Raoul jumped up with a squeak, eyes wide. “Monsieur! What are you doing here?” Mme. Giry demanded, ignoring the boy’s frightened expression. “I...But...Where did he go?” He asked quickly, looking around before groaning and cupping his head in his hands. Mme. Giry paused, hiding the envelope behind her back and kneeling beside the Vicomte.  “Are you alright Monsieur?” “I...I must have had too much to drink.” Raoul sighed, shaking his head with a sheepish smile. Mme. Giry shook her head, straightening up and cuffing Raoul’s head lightly, getting a soft whimper for her action. “Go home Raoul...” She said sternly. The Vicomte made to respond, but decided against it and stood shakily, nodding. “Pardon...It won’t happen again.” He said, making his way slowly down the stairs and into the hall.

Raoul quickly strode through the halls of the Opera, stumbling clumsily every few steps on the way to where he thought the foyer was. Erik was lurking in the shadows of the floors above, shaking his head with disappointment. “A drunk...The patron of  _my_  opera...is a drunk.” He growled, scoffing as the boy stumbled into a wall. The Phantom then paused, eyes widening as the boy wandered down one of the darkened hall ways. “Oh no....” Erik breathed, darting off along the upper floors to try and follow the fop. Raoul paused at the end of one hall way, looking first to the left, then to the right. “Left...Go left!” Erik hissed, clutching the edge of a banister as he gazed down at Raoul. Whether the boy had heard him or not Erik didn't know, as Raoul turned left, allowing the Phantom to breathe a sigh of relief. This brief pause was broken by a startled yelp, accompanied by the sound of tearing paper. Erik paled and shot down the hall, cursing quietly under his breath.  He leapt off the balcony and his jaw fell open.

A painting that had hidden one of the many entrances to his lair had been split up the center. Erik ducked in and cursed again, taking a mental note to kill the fop the first chance he got. The Phantom tore down the hallways, hoping to catch the fop before he got to the lair. It amazed the Phantom at how quickly a drunken man could move.

Stumbling into the lair, Erik looked around wildly. He frowned, glancing into each room as he passed on the way to the organ. He sighed, shaking his head with a weak smile. “It was just your imagination Erik...” He said softly, dropping into the bench behind the organ. He sighed again, stretching his fingers and beginning to idly play. He sighed, humming softly to himself while he started rummaging for the score that lay half finished under a large pile of papers. He growled quietly, noting that he needed to organize those papers as soon as possible.

A loud clatter and a soft yelp from the other room jolt Erik out of his thoughts. He frowned, getting to his feet and cautiously approaching the sounds. He cracked open the door and peered inside, looking around the dark room with a puzzled expression. One of the unlit candle sticks lay in the middle of the room. “Not where I left you...” He muttered, picking up the stick and turning it over in his hands. He set the candle back onto the table and turned to leave. The sight of another figure trying to sneak out of the room stopped him in his tracks.

“YOU!” Erik roared, lunging forward and grabbing the back of Raoul’s jacket. The boy yelped and threw his arms over his head, whimpering quietly. “What are you doing down here?” Erik demanded, dragging Raoul into the light and roughly releasing him. The fop stood stone still, paralyzed with fear. Raoul remained silent, still staring wide-eyed at the Phantom. Erik raised an eyebrow, scoffing quietly.

“What’s the matter boy?” He snarled, causing Raoul to flinch back. The fop raised a shaking hand, gesturing at Erik’s face. Erik paused, a slight feeling of panic growing in the pit of his stomach. He raised his hand and gingerly touched the spot where the mask should have been. Instead of the smooth porcelain that should have been there, his fingers brushed the disfigured skin instead. With a startled shriek, Erik spun away and clamped a hand over the scorched flesh.

“Go...” He growled at Raoul, not turning to face the boy. Raoul remained where he was, still staring wide-eyed at the man. “GO!” Erik’s shout spurred him on, and the fop raced out of the lair and tried to retrace his steps. Erik waited until his footsteps had faded before allowing himself and shaking breath. He darted into the back room, and snatched up the mask, slipping it back over his face. Instantly he relaxed, taking several calming breaths as the cool porcelain settled into place. Straightening his clothing, Erik ducked into the labyrinth and set about searching for the boy, certain that he would never find his own way out in his current level of sobriety.  

Soon Erik stumbled upon the boy...Or rather, Raoul stumbled  _into_  Erik. Raoul jumped back squeaking in shock as Erik hit the wall. Raoul cowered against the wall, whimpering softly. Erik blinked, looking curiously at the man before shaking his head. He grabbed Raoul’s arm and began to drag the boy through the many dark hallways. “W-where are we going?” Raoul managed to stuttered, looking around and trying to remember all the twists and turns they took. “Back to the surface...” Erik answered with a growl. Raoul clamped his mouth shut, choosing to remain silent for the rest of the journey.

Soon, Erik kicked open a hidden door, and threw Raoul out, growling still. “Get out and don’t come back.” He growled, slamming the panel shut. Raoul stood in the brightly lit hallways of the opera, looking around with a very puzzled expression. He sighed, righting his shirt and staggering towards the foyer and out to his waiting carriage.

“Where have you been Monsieur le Vicomte?” The driver asked, tilting his head curiously. Raoul stared out the window, his breath clouding around his mouth. “I...Don’t actually know.” He replied honestly.


	3. Chapter 3

Music and chatter drifted through the halls of the Opera Populaire. The opening night of their newest opera had gone off without a hitch; the dancers had been flawless, none of the singers had begun to croak, and nothing had fallen on anyone. So naturally, this seemed like the perfect occasion for a celebration. Andre and Firmin had called in a few favours, and soon several carriages had pulled up, filled to the point of bursting with food and drink. Everyone had filled into the foyer, lining up to congratulate the cast and crew. To his surprise, Raoul had been virtually ignored. Not that the Vicomte minded or anything. In fact, he was quite content to sit in the corner with a glass of wine and simply watch.

“Aren’t you going to celebrate Vicomte?” Mme. Giry asked, appearing beside Raoul.

“I have no reason to...” he shrugged, sipping his wine with a bored expression. Mme. Giry raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. Raoul sighed heavily, standing to leave. “Anyways, I should be off. Long day and all.” He mumbled, trying to make his way through the crowd of people. Mme. Giry shrugged, turning to leave before another voice rose above the chatter.

“You! Vicomte or whatever! You’ve got some explaining to do!” A man pushed his way through the crowd and grabbed Raoul’s arm. The boy turned, looking up at the man with a confused expression.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” He asked calmly, trying to tug his arm free.

“Don’t play stupid with me...” The man slurred, his breath heavy with the smell of alcohol, “I know you’ve been trying to bed my Clarisse.” He continued, grabbing Raoul’s collar and lifting the boy off his feet. Raoul squeaked in shock, his hands flying to his neck to try and pry the man’s fingers lose. Mme. Giry chose this moment to move forward, driving the end of her walking stick into the man’s leg. Raoul yipped as he was dropped, landing in a rather undignified fashion.

“That will be enough.” She snapped, helping Raoul to his feet. The Vicomte looked utterly confused, his mouth hanging open as he tried desperately to form a sentence. “Right, home with the lot of you! There will be rehearsal tomorrow, so get some rest!” A chorus of groans and quiet mutterings greeted her order, but everyone began to file out none the less.

“Do you understand what just happened?” Raoul asked, straightening out his jacket with a small scowl.  Mme. Giry shook her head with a small shrug. Raoul sighed, rubbing his neck. “The buffoon was drunk...his breath just reeked of the drink.” Mme. Giry rolled her eyes, chuckling quietly.

“Go home Raoul...and be careful.” She said over her shoulder, turning to help Andre and Firmin to clean up.  Raoul blinked, doing up his jacket and pushing through the doors of the Opera and heading out into the cold.

Everyone had either already left, or were just climbing into their carriages. Raoul sighed, looking around for a moment before shrugging and starting to walk. It wasn’t too cold out, so he had decided to walk home. Stuffing his hands into his pockets and pulling his collar up to his ears, he set off...or, he would have, if someone hadn’t grabbed him round the middle and dragged him to the side of the Opera building.

“What is the meaning of this? Get your hands off me!” Raoul yipped, struggling against the hands that had grabbed him. The man pushed Raoul against a wall, quickly giving him a blow to the jaw. It was enough to leave a dark bruise, and more importantly to disorient Raoul for long enough so the man could pull a knife and stab Raoul in the chest. The knife went straight in to his chest, causing the Vicomte to scream and struggle to breath, trying to put pressure on the wound. The man however elbowed Raoul’s hand away and hit the wound in the process, snapping a few of his ribs. Raoul’s eyes widened as the pain became almost too intense to handle, especially when the man drove the knife back Raoul’s chest and dragged it down. With blood pouring from the enlarged wound on his chest, Raoul slumped to the ground, the blood loss causing him to get dizzy. The man sneered down at him, adding a kick to his gut for good measure.

“Don’t you come near my Clarisse again” The man snarled, stalking off and leaving Raoul to bleed on the ground. The Vicomte lay on his back, staring up at the sky as he tried to call out for help. The only sound that he was able to make was a pitiful whimper. Raoul closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face as he realized his situation. He would die...and no one would notice. The sound of approaching footsteps pulled the Vicomte out of his grieving.

“S-s’il vous plait...” He whimpered, his world beginning to blur around him. The footfalls stopped, a startled gasp breaking the silence. Someone knelt beside Raoul, though the Vicomte couldn’t make out a face.

“Do not move...” A voice growled. Raoul whimpered, clenching his eyes closed once more.  _Oh god, hadn’t he been through enough?_  The other figure sighed, carefully gathering the Vicomte into their arms. Raoul bit back a sob, cringing.

“Be still...I’m not here to hurt you. The voice said, gentler than before. Raoul whimpered, relaxing slightly as he looked up.

“W-who are you?” He asked quietly, feeling himself starting to slip away. The figure chuckled, starting to walk back into the Opera.

“You don’t remember me Vicomte?” Raoul frowned, tilting his head and chewing his lip. Then suddenly, it hit him.

“Your eyes...” He breathed, before everything went black and he fell completely limp.


	4. Chapter 4

Erik paced around his liar, muttering softly under his breath. Why had he brought the boy down? In fact, why hadn’t he just let the boy die? The Phantom growled and turned, striding into the room where he had laid Raoul. As he entered, his eyes softened almost immediately. Raoul lay completely still, his breathing labored. It was evident that even in sleep, the boy was still in pain. Erik sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and shaking his head.

“You can’t seem to stay out of trouble, can you?” He asked quietly, brushing a strand of matted hair out of Raoul’s face. The boy stirred slightly, a quiet whimper escaping his lip. Erik drew his hand back quickly, stashing the limp back into his cloak. Raoul stirred again, his eyes fluttering open. Blue met gold as Raoul’s eyes slowly slid back into focus.

“How are you feeling Vicomte?” Erik asked as he stood and circling the bed. Raoul looked completely lost, his blue eyes widening. Erik sighed, standing at the side of the bed once again and lifting the sheets to get a look at the wrappings he had applied. This movement sparked the life in Raoul, the boy letting out a small squeak as he moved back, hugging the blankets to his chest. As the pain set in, the Vicomte shirked, clenching his eyes closed. Erik rushed forward, gently lowering Raoul back down to the mattress.

“Hush Vicomte...Be still.” Said he gently, holding Raoul down and looking into his eyes, “Raoul, stop moving.” He said, and the boy instantly fell still, tears streaming down his cheeks. Erik shook his head, muttering softly as he turned and took a bottle of laudanum out of a drawer. Raoul followed the Phantom’s movements with terrified curiosity. Erik poured a spoonful of the liquid out and nodded, turning back to Raoul.

“I need you to sit up...Carefully this time. Are you capable of doing so on your own?” Raoul shrugged, struggling up onto his elbows with a small whimper. “Easy lad...” Said Erik quickly, placing a gentle hand on the Vicomte’s back. Slowly, Raoul managed to right himself, despite the burning pain in his chest.

“Why are you helping me?” He asked his voice grating against his throat.

“Why shouldn’t I? You may be annoying, but you don’t deserve death,” Replied Erik, checking the blood-stained wrappings with a look of disgust, “Besides, it takes far too long to find a new patron.” Raoul rolled his eyes, moving to lay back. Erik shook his head, holding the boy upright as he held up the spoon.

“One spoon, and then you can go back to sleep.” Raoul eyed the medication wearily, a frown crossing his features. “Come on Vicomte.” Erik sighed, pressing the spoon against the boy’s lips. Raoul took the spoon and swallowed, gagging slightly. Erik chuckled quietly as he set the medication back in the drawer before standing to leave.

“Monsieur?” Raoul asked quietly, nuzzling back into the pillows.

“Oui Vicomte?”

“Please don’t leave...Not yet.” Erik froze mid-step, feeling his heart begin to race.

“What?” He asked, his voice hardly above a whisper.

“Please don’t go...” Raoul asked again, sound like a frightened child. Erik sighed, turning back and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Better?” He asked, unable to hide the smile as Raoul’s face lit up. The Vicomte nodded, his eyes sliding closed as the drugs took effect. Soon the boy was sound asleep, his face screwed in pain. Erik stood again, shaking his head with a fond smile.

“Sleep well Raoul...” He said softly, closing the door with a content sigh.

* * *

 

“Erik, am I allowed to leave yet?” Raoul groaned, picking up a pebble and skipping it across the lake. Erik looked up from his work, rolling his eyes.

“Firstly, don’t ever call me that again...”

“Well it is your name, is it not?”

“Yes, but that isn’t the point. Secondly, you can’t leave until that would on your chest heals a little more.” Erik snapped, turning back to his work. He heard the splash of a yet another stone, then silence. A sudden weight on his back pulled him away from his work once more.

“Raoul...” He growled, slowly setting his quill down and sitting up, “Get off me.” Raoul smirked, and then spotted what the other man had been working on.

“What’s this?” He asked, snatching the paper and holding it up to the light. Erik paled, lunging forward and trying to pry the paper from the Vicomte’s grip. Although he was at a disadvantage in both size and strength, Raoul managed to keep the paper in his possession.

“Raoul!” Erik snapped, taking a swipe at the boy as he darted past. “Give me that paper now!” Raoul paused, tilting his head and looking first to Erik, then to the paper clenched in his fist. Erik’s eyes followed Raoul’s and he sighed.

“Look if you please, but you will have to leave now.” Erik whispered, looking coolly at Raoul. The Vicomte bit his lip, sighing heavily and holding out the paper.

“Sorry...” He murmured as Erik snatched the paper and held it to his chest, his golden eyes glinting dangerously. Raoul shrunk back, whimpering softly. Erik looked at the boy’s chest and cursed, noticing for the first time the blood soaking through the fabric of his shirt. Casting the paper aside, Erik stepped forward and took Raoul’s arm, pulling him back to his appointed room.

Erik gently pushed Raoul onto his bed, muttering softly under his breath. The Vicomte followed his movements around the small room as the Phantom tried to find fresh wrappings. Soon Erik was kneeling beside Raoul, carefully undoing the soiled wrappings. After the fabric was out of the way, Erik gently placed the palm of his hand against Raoul’s torso, taking a cloth and wiping away any dirt or dried blood. Raoul watched, wincing slightly at the dull pain the cleaning caused. Soon Erik moved away, wiping his hands on his pants before taking the fresh wrapping and tying it around Raoul’s chest.

“That should do it...” He sighed, tying off the end of the wrapping. Raoul nodded his thanks, biting his lip as he watched Erik stand and tidy up. Raoul cleared his throat, standing and walking up behind Erik.

“Monsieur?” He asked quietly, clasping his hands behind his back. Erik turned with a raised eyebrow, tilting his head.

“Yes Raoul?” He asked, smirking as he noticed Raoul was rocking back and forth on his heels. The boy looked up, a soft blush tinting his cheeks. Raoul eventually met Erik’s gaze and gave a small smile. Before Erik could speak, Raoul had put his hands on the Phantom’s shoulder, gotten up onto his toes and pressed a gentle kiss to the unmasked half of Erik’s face.

“Merci...” The Vicomte said quickly, ushering Erik out of his room and closing the door. Erik stood in stunned silence, his mouth hanging open. His hand drifted up to his face, gently touching his cheek. Had the boy just...? No, he couldn’t have...He wouldn’t have! Erik shook his head, muttering softly to himself and turning back to his organ.

“I should have left him to die...” He muttered, but he couldn’t help but smile.

 _You don’t mean that..._ Said the small voice in the back of his head.

* * *

 

“Where are we?”

“The prop room Raoul, one of the more hidden entrances to the lair.”

“And you’re willingly showing it to me?” Raoul asked skeptically, stepping out of the cupboard and dusting off his jacket. Erik nodded, setting the candle they had been using as a light down on a holder.

“Yes, but you are never to use it unless it’s an emergency.” He replied, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. “Just open the cupboard, down the stairs and turn left.” Raoul nodded, shuffling where he stood. Erik raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. “Is there something wrong?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing monsieur...I was just thinking.” Raoul replied, his head snapping up. Erik frowned, rolling his eyes and turning back to the stair case. Raoul took a deep breath, catching the Phantom’s arm. “Wait...” Erik huffed, his shoulders slumping.

“What is it now?” He asked, turning back to face Raoul.

“I-I just wanted to thank you...”

“There is no need Vicomte, just don’t let it happen again.” Raoul nodded, looking down at his feet and chewing his lip in thought. Erik chuckled, clapping the boy lightly on the shoulder. “Good luck Vicomte, try not to mess up my Opera.”

“I won’t! Oh...And Erik?”

“Yes Raoul?” Raoul smirked, bouncing up onto his toes and wrapping his arms around Erik’s neck, kissing him fiercely for a moment before breaking away. Erik stared at the boy in front of him, his mouth moving but no sound emerging. Raoul blushed bright red, looking down at his shoes.

“Right then...I’ll be on my way.” The boy said quickly, nodding curtly and walking across the room. Erik pulled himself out of his thoughts, looking up quickly.

“Raoul...Raoul, please wait.” The Vicomte’s hand froze on the handle, and he turned with a quizzical expression. Erik took the boy’s hands, leading him away from the door. Raoul followed obediently, looking up at Erik in confusion. The Phantom gave Raoul an almost un-noticeable smile, tilting the boy’s chin up and gently pressing their lips together.

To his credit, Raoul reacted rather well. The Vicomte squeaked, and then slowly let his hands snake around Erik’s neck. Erik purred softly, gently nipping Raoul’s bottom lip and smirking at the whimper he came as the response. Raoul freed one of his hands and ran it gently down Erik’s chest. Suddenly, the Phantom’s eyes snapped back into focus and he quickly pushed Raoul back, shaking his head. Raoul looked at him with a mixture of confusion and pity.

“Go back to your world Raoul,” Said Erik firmly, “forget mine.” And with that the man turned and hurried down the stairs, the light of the candle flickering before completely extinguished itself. Raoul stood in silence for several moments before smoothing his jacket and quickly exiting the room.

Raoul walked through the Opera in a confused silence. It was clear what had just happened, and yet he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that it actually had happened. As he set foot in the main hall, Andre, Firmin and Mme. Giry swarmed him, bombarding the Vicomte with questions.

“Good lord Raoul! Where have you been?” Andre demanded, looking the boy up and down. Raoul blinked, looking up at the three with a puzzled expression before shaking of the remains of his stupor and forced a weak smile.

“I just needed a couple days off...” He began to explain, but was quickly cut off by Firmin.

“A couple of days? Monsieur le Vicomte, you’ve been gone well over a week! You can’t just vanish without warning like that! What do you have to say for yourself?” Raoul didn’t respond, frowning in thought. He had been gone for over a week? Surely it wasn’t that long...

“Alright Firmin, that is enough,” Mme. Giry said suddenly, “He’s back now, and everything ban go back to normal.” She finished sternly, her expression daring the managers to challenge her. Raoul cleared his throat, a small smile working its way onto his face.

“No no Mme. Giry, an explanation is in order. After the wonderful party, I returned home. The next day I woke to a terrible flu and no voice. I couldn’t send word to you, for I had no voice to say it!” Andre and Firmin exchanged a quick glanced, then shrugged. Both bidding Raoul and Mme. Giry a good evening, they strolled off down the hall. Raoul was about to follow when Mme. Giry grabbed his arm.

“Good cover Vicomte, but don’t let it happen again.” She said firmly, shaking her head.

“O-of course!...Wait, don’t let what happen again?” He asked with a frown. Mme. Giry smiled slyly, turning and walking down the hall.

“You know what I speak of Vicomte...” She smiled, glancing over her shoulder and clapping her hands under her chin. “ _Oh your eyes..._ ” She mocked before turning the corner and vanishing.


	5. Chapter 5

“Monsieur le Vicomte?” Raoul looked up from his book, setting down the glass of brandy he had been carefully nursing. A young servant boy stood in the door, nervously shifting from foot to foot.

“Yes Pierre?”

“Your father sir...He is waiting in down in the foyer. He sent me to bring you downstairs.” Raoul nodded, closing his book and exiting his study, his brow furrowing in thought. Why was his father here? He rarely visited; why had he come now? Raoul sighed, hurrying down the stairs and putting on his best smile. However, the smile faltered when he stepped down into the foyer. Monsieur de Chagny stood with his back to the Vicomte, muttering to himself. Raoul felt his heart begin to hammer against his chest, a feeling of dread building in his gut.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of earning a visit from you father?” He asked with fake cheeriness, forcing himself to smile once more. His father turned with a scowl, causing Raoul to freeze in his tracks. His father began to circle him, muttering quietly. “I-Is something wrong?” Raoul asked shakily, resisting the urge to start shuffling.

“We received a letter from Mme. Giry concerning your drinking, and how it may be related to your recent disappearance.” His father said coolly, turning his nose up slightly. Raoul paled, biting his lip and wringing his hands behind his back. When had she written? Probably before she knew he was under Erik’s care no doubt...

“What do you have to say for yourself?” His father demanded suddenly.

“I was ill, so I stayed home. It’s as simple as that!” Raoul replied, attempting to keep the bitter tone from his voice. Monsieur de Chagny growled and back-handed Raoul, sending the boy staggering back with his hand clapped to his cheek.

“Don’t you dare lie to me boy! I’ve spoken with your staff...You never returned home after that party.” Raoul cursed under his breath, mentally kicking himself. The Vicomte sighed and looked up at his father.

“Very well, you are correct. I did not return home.”

“Then where were you?”

“Staying with a lovely gentleman who lives beneath the Opera...” His father blinked, looking at his son with an expression of sheer confusion. Raoul quirked an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What’s wrong father? Don’t you believe me?” Monsieur de Chagny just stared at him, visibly straining to speak.

“Y-you’re lying...”

“Am I really father?” Raoul questioned, grinning slyly. His father shook his head, blinking rapidly before his eyes hardened and he took a threatening step towards Raoul. The Vicomte shrunk back, his cocky air fading away.

“What did I just say about lying Raoul?” Monsieur de Chagny’s voice was terrifyingly calm, a tone Raoul knew all too well. His father continued his advance, lifting his hand slowly.

“Papa...Please! I-I was just joking!” Raoul said hurriedly, pressing into a corner and throwing his arms up to cover his face. His father ignored him, grabbing the boy’s collar and dragging him to his feet and towards the front door.

“My own son...becomes a useless drunk.” He muttered, opening the door and tossing Raoul down the steps and into the snow bank. “I want you off of my property now...”

“M-mais papa...”

“Shut up boy...You are no longer my son, you pathetic drunk.” His father sneered, slamming the door shut. Raoul sat in the snow, tears beginning to prick at his eyes. He stood slowly, ignoring the icy water soaking through his clothing. Casting a small glance over his shoulder, the Vicomte walked off the property and into the city.

Not three blocks later, Raoul regretted not going back and at least demanding at least a coat. The icy winter air nipped at any exposed part of the Vicomte’s skin it could find, all the while blowing snow into the boy’s face. As yet another speeding carriage passed by, sending up another icy spray to further drench the Vicomte, an idea popped into the boy’s head.

“The Opera...” He breathed, shrugging off the cold and sprinting through the streets. After a long run, the Vicomte struggled up the stairs of the Opera, his teeth audibly chattering. Fumbling with his key, Raoul managed to get the doors open before he collapsed forward, sneezing and shivering. He shook his head, forcing himself back onto his feet.

“Not yet...” He grit, glancing around before hurrying to the prop room. Upon arrival, he threw open the door to the cupboard, nearly falling face first into the dark. After regaining his balance, the Vicomte ran through the dark halls, crashing into a wall on several occasions. Finally spotting a light at the end of the tunnel, he shot forward.

“Erik!”He shouted as he stumbled into the lair, tripping over his own feet and crashing to the ground. The Phantom looked up from his organ, frowning in confusion.

“Vicomte, why are you here? I told you to forget me!” He snapped, pushing away from his work and storming over to Raoul. Upon laying his eyes on the boy however, Erik froze in his tracks. Raoul had curled in on himself and was sobbing uncontrollably. Erik dropped down beside him, resting a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Gods Raoul...You’re freezing! What happened?” He exclaimed, helping Raoul to sit up. The Vicomte didn’t reply his chattering teeth and snivelling, making it near impossible to speak. Erik sighed, standing and hurrying off. Raoul drew his knees to his chest, whimpering quietly and glancing around. Erik returned quickly, draping a thick woollen blanket around the Vicomte’s shoulders.

“Now Vicomte...Tell me what happened.” He said gently, slowly helping Raoul into a chair. The Vicomte didn’t speak, sniffing still. Erik sighed, gently rubbing Raoul’s back and speaking soothingly.

“Chut Vicomte...Tout est bien...chut.” Raoul took a shuddering breath, his sobs subsiding. Erik looked down at him, his expression unreadable. “Are you alright now?” The Phantom asked gently, stepping away from Raoul. The Vicomte nodded, wiping his eyes.

“F-fine...I’m fine.” He stuttered quietly. Erik raised an eyebrow, lacing his fingers behind his back.

“Are you certain? It certainly doesn’t seem like you’re alright.”

“Alright, I’m not...” Raoul sighed, looking down at his shoes, water dripping from his hair. “My father th-threw me out of my own house...” He admitted, his voice threatening to break. Erik frowned, taking a small step towards Raoul and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. The boy tensed, looking up at Erik with red eyes. Erik smiled, giving Raoul’s shoulder a tight squeeze before turning away

“I’ll speak to Mme. Giry then, and we’ll see about getting you new accommodations.”

“A-actually...I was hoping I could um, s-stay here with you?” Erik tripped over his own foot, crashing into his organ with a startled squeak. Raoul winced, biting his lip and shuffling awkwardly “Sorry?”

“S-stay here? Gods boy, are you insane?” Erik snapped, righting himself. The Vicomte winced, shrinking back with a sigh. Erik looked at the younger man, shaking his head. “It isn’t safe for you here Raoul.”

“Then why did you show me a way in?” Raoul demanded, suddenly finding his voice again. “If you didn’t want me coming back, why give me a way?” Erik stood silent, glaring at the Vicomte with a look of hatred...and yet, a hint of admiration. Raoul stood his ground as the elder stepped closer, circling the boy with what could have been a predatory gleam in his eyes.

“So Vicomte, you want to stay in the dark with me?” The Phantom growled, grabbing Raoul’s shoulders and spinning him around. The Vicomte stumbled, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The boy nodded, letting the blanket fall off his shoulders and pool at his feet.

“On one condition...”

“And what, pray tell, would that be?”

“Make me feel wanted again.” Raoul purred, draping his arms around Erik’s neck and kissing him fiercely. The Phantom smirked, drawing the boy tighter against his chest, growling quietly. Erik fisted one of his hands into Raoul’s matted hair, the Vicomte shivering against him.

“Cold Vicomte?” Erik smirked, trailing a hand down Raoul’s spine. Raoul swallowed hard and nodded, pressing himself against Erik’s heat. “Your clothes are soaking wet…” Erik pointed out, his hands slowly trailing down Raoul’s chest and starting to unbutton the Vicomte’s soaked through shirt. Raoul gasped lightly and instinctively arched into Erik’s touch, the other’s fingertips barely touching his chest, yet each brush of skin sending warmth through his body. Erik undid the top button and slowly pushed the wet shirt from Raoul’s shoulders, letting it fall to the floor behind the Vicomte as Erik started licking and sucking at Raoul’s newly exposed skin. The Vicomte moaned lightly and shivered, only this time from the pleasure instead of the cold. Erik smirked against his skin and reached his hands around to squeeze Raoul’s ass, eliciting a small whimper from the boy.

As Erik kissed down Raoul’s chest, the Vicomte shakily moved his hands to push Erik’s jacket from his shoulders, before starting to unbutton the Phantom’s own shirt. Although Erik quite obviously took note of this, he did nothing to stop it, and instead went back to kissing Raoul on the mouth, pressing their hips roughly together. Raoul’s shaking hands struggled to get the shirt undone, so Erik hurriedly took it off himself. Their chests now exposed to each other, they let their hands wander over the other’s body, their lips pressed together in a deep, passionate, needy kiss. Erik’s hands were the first to reach Raoul’s waistband, ever so slowly pulling the Vicomte’s trousers off, leaving Raoul completely exposed. It took Raoul a minute to realize this and he blushed when he did, but his slight awkwardness was stopped the instant Erik smashed their lips together. He felt Erik’s hand rubbing his arousal, and bucked in to it unconsciously.

Erik chuckled lowly “Shall we move to the bedroom? I’m sure you’ll be warmer there…”he breathed against Raoul’s skin, before taking the boy’s hand and pulling him into the dimly lit bedroom. Raoul let himself be pushed down on to the bed, letting Erik straddle his hips above him when he too had removed his trousers, leaving them both naked in front of each other. Erik kissed Raoul passionately again, grinding their hips together in the process, creating a breathtaking friction. Raoul wrapped his arms around the Phantom’s neck, pulling them closer together as he whispered against Erik’s lips “Please… I-I want you…” Erik hesitated for a split second, before nodding and kissing him again, and lowering his hips slightly “This will hurt” he told the boy, assuming he was a virgin. Raoul bit his lip and nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried his hardest to take slow, deep breaths. Erik entered him as gently as he could, but not as slowly as Raoul would have liked.

The boy gasped lightly at the pain, clinging to Erik’s shoulders as though his life depended on it. Erik stayed perfectly still within him, so as not to cause him any more pain, as he kissed the Vicomte lightly. After a few silent, still moments, Raoul opened his eyes to look at Erik “M-Move… please….” Erik began to move his hips slowly at Raoul’s words, thrusting in and out of the boy gently. Raoul started to moan and clutch at the bed sheets, spreading his legs wider on instinct. As Erik began to move faster and more roughly, he reached his hand down to stroke Raoul’s member, which was aching for attention. Raoul gasped at the sudden contact and started to writhe under Erik a bit, causing the Phantom’s thrusts to become rougher. Erik started to sweat and pant, his heart beating faster and harder as he pounded into the boy below him. Raoul was no better, covered in sweat and moaning a little louder than he would have liked to. “C-Close...” Raoul managed to get out, to which Erik nodded in agreement.

With a few final thrusts, Erik came inside of Raoul, causing the Vicomte to come as well in Erik’s hand. The Phantom lay half on top of Raoul as he recovered from his orgasm, panting heavily and clutching at Raoul’s shoulders.

“D-did we just-?” The Vicomte asked softly, still trembling slightly. Erik nodded slowly, feeling his heart begin to hammer against his chest once again. Would he leave? Perhaps the boy hated him now...Maybe he would never come back. Raoul looked up at him with a small frown, reaching up and cupping Erik’s cheek.

“Erik, are you alright? You’ve gone white as a sheet.” The boy frowned, sitting up with a small wince. The Phantom blinked, shaking his head and looking at the boy in front of him.

“Fine...I’m fine Vicomte.” He lied quickly, forcing a weak smile. Raoul frowned, not completely convinced, before chuckling quietly. Erik frowned, leaning back.“What’s so funny?”

“Even after that, you still manage to keep your mask on.” Raoul smirked, lying back with a small yawn. Erik frowned, lifting his hand and brushing his fingers against the porcelain cover. The Phantom chuckled, looking down at Raoul with a fond smile. The boy stretched out again, his eyes starting to slide closed.

“Erik?”

“Yes Raoul?”

“Could you take off your mask? Just this one time?” Raoul asked sweetly, batting his eyes. Erik frowned, shaking his head and ruffling the boy’s hair.

“No, it’ll give you nightmares.” Raoul pouted, sitting up with a small frown. Erik looked at him with a small sigh, pushing him back down onto the bed and stealing a quick kiss. “Now sleep...Perhaps in the morning.” Raoul’s eyes widened and he grinned, nodding quickly. Erik huffed, rolling his eyes and drawing the blanket up around the fop’s shoulders. Raoul was asleep in the blink of an eye, his chest rising and falling steadily. Erik smiled, turning and gathering his clothing, pulling it on quickly before settling down at his organ and humming softly, snatching up his quill and setting to work.

* * *

 

Raoul awoke slowly, stretching out before pausing with a frown. He rolled over and pawed the other side of the bed, but upon finding nothing, he sat up and looked around. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, hissing in pain. He braced himself and stood, biting his lip and gathering the fallen blanket, draping it around himself and stepping out of the room.

“Erik, are you awake?” He called gently, looking around the music room with a small frown. Padding quietly around, the Vicomte poked his head into every room, but finding nothing. Now he was beginning to panic. Had he done something to upset the Phantom? Why wasn’t he able to find him! Raoul bit his lip, nervously tapping his foot before a small squeak caught his attention. Spinning around, the Vicomte had to hold back his laughter. Erik had fallen asleep at the organ, his face pressed up against several keys, and his hand resting in the bottle of ink he always kept handy. Raoul snorted into his hand, stepping forward and gingerly shaking the Phantom’s shoulder, attempting to wake him. Erik jolted awake, sending the ink flying across the room.

“Who’s there? I’ll have you know I...Raoul?” The man frowned, tilting his head and trying to piece together the reason that the Vicomte was on his knees dying of laughter. Raoul looked up at him, clearing his throat and trying to compose himself, before doubling over once again. Erik rolled his eyes, standing and lightly cuffing Raoul’s ear.

“Shut up Vicomte...” Erik snarled, straightening his clothing with a small smirk. Raoul scrambled to his feet, rubbing the back of his head and smirking slightly. The boy leaned against Erik’s shoulder, kissing along the man’s jaw and purring softly. Erik rolled his eyes, shoving the boy off and setting to work cleaning up the ink. Raoul pouted, trotting up behind him and draping his arms over the other’s shoulders.

“Erik...Please?”

“Please what?”

“Take off the mask now?” Erik paused, shaking his head with a small sigh.

“Get dressed Vicomte...You shouldn’t stay down here.” Erik said suddenly, turning away from Raoul and stalking off. The Vicomte froze, tilting his head before shrugging and hunting around the lair for his discarded clothing. Upon picking up his shirt, Raoul couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose and toss the garment aside.

“Erik...Do have any clothing I could borrow? Mine are still wet...” Erik stepped out of the other room, carrying a small bundle in his arms. Raoul moved forward curiously, drawing the blanket tighter around himself. Erik sighed, handing the bundle over and turning away.

“They may be a big large on you...” He muttered, sighing heavily as he heard the rustling of fabric behind him. “Are you decent?” He asked after a moment, cautiously glancing over his shoulder.

“Not since last night.” Raoul teased, tugging on the jacket and spinning round, “How do I look?”

“Like a complete fool.” Erik smirked, taking the boy’s elbow and leading him back up the passage. Raoul stumbled along behind him, a frown crossing his features.

“I never agreed to leave!” The boy snapped, tugging his arm free and glaring at Erik. The Phantom paused, rolling his eyes and turning back to face Raoul. Without speaking, the Phantom grabbed the boy around the mid-section, bearing his mouth down possessively and kissing Raoul for a good while. After breaking apart, the Vicomte stood uncertainly, a goofy grin tugging at his lips. Erik smirked triumphantly, taking the boy around the waist and leading him back up to the prop room.

“Are you planning on coming back Vicomte?” Erik asked, helping the boy out of the cupboard and smiling gently. Raoul shrugged, shuffling slightly.

“Of course...If you’ll allow it?” Erik took the Vicomte’s hand, smiling warmly.

“But of course! Why would I not?” Raoul shrugged, chuckling softly.

“Well, considering up until a few days ago you hated me” Erik rolled his eyes, and was about to respond when the door began to open. Quickly stealing a kiss from Raoul, the Phantom turned and vanished down the stairs. Raoul blinked, looking between the cupboard and the now open door.

“And just what are you doing down here Vicomte?” Mm. Giry demanded, stepping into view and tapping her cane. Raoul smiled awkwardly, trying to hold the shirt he had borrowed up. Mme. Giry raised an eyebrow, stepping forward and circling Raoul.

“These aren’t yours...” She noted, “I don’t recall you ever wearing sequins.” Raoul bit his lip, looking away. Mme. Giry scowled, cuffing his head sharply. “You went down to see him again, didn’t you?” Raoul could do nothing but nod, lowering his gaze to look at the ground. Mme. Giry sighed, shaking her head and turning away.

“You can’t see him anymore Raoul.” She said sternly, drumming her fingers on her cane. Raoul sputtered, stumbling back and shaking his head.

“B-But Mme. Giry!” He began to protest, but fell silent as she turned, her expression grave.

“There are rumors Vicomte,” she said softly, stepping towards Raoul, “The people think he is using you. That he is twisting your mind.” She placed a surprisingly gentle hand on the Vicomte’s shoulder. Raoul looked stunned, his mouth moving silently as he tried to wrap his head around what she had just said. He hadn’t noticed Mme. Giry lead him from the room.

“You’ve been vanishing too often Vicomte. A simple explanation will not suffice. They want him gone, though dead is preferred.” Raoul stumbled forward with a curse.

“What? No!” He snapped, looking at Mme. Giry with a terrified expression. The woman sighed, leaning against her cane. Raoul then noticed for the first time, the worry that was present on her worn features. The Vicomte frowned, stepping forward and tilting his head.

“Is everything alright?” He asked softly, the anger gone from his voice. Mme. Giry looked up with a weak smile, shaking her head and brushing his hand off.

“Yes Vicomte, all is well,” She said, “Come. It’s better if we just go.” Raoul nodded silently, following her through the opera. As they neared the foyer, worried voices were heard echoing through the halls. Raoul immediately recognized one of the voices as his father’s. The two rounded the corner and Mme. Giry tapped her cane against the wall, clearing her throat. The three figures turned to face them.

Andre and Firmin looked livid at the sight of Raoul, but his father didn’t even seem to notice. He rushed forward, clasping the Vicomte’s shoulders for a moment before pulling him into a tight embrace. Raoul stiffened at the unexpected contact, his blue eyes widening. Slowly, he relaxed enough to shakily return the embrace.

“Papa...What are you doing here?” He asked softly, looking up at his father. At first, Monsieur de Chagny did not speak, and Raoul could almost swear he saw tears in the man’s eyes.

“He realized his mistake Vicomte. Your brother talked some sense into him.” Andre spoke, lacing his fingers behind his back. Raoul paused, looking between the managers and his father.

“Philippe?”He questioned, “I thought he had gone overseas.”

“I had...But when news reached me of my brother’s vanishing acts, I felt obligated to return.”


	6. Chapter 6

Everyone spun around, Raoul grumbling softly. Philippe le Comte the Chagny stood at the front doors, smiling broadly down at the group. He seemed older than when he had left. His once joyful features were stony and worn, and his eyes no longer glistened with life. Monsieur de Chagny released Raoul, rushing over to greet his eldest son.

“Philippe, mon enfant! Surely you didn’t come all this way for your brother?” He asked, shaking the Comte’s hand before embracing him. The Comte laughed, though the sound seemed forced and weak. Raoul rolled his eyes, scowling slightly as he adjusted his borrowed shirt. Philippe looked over and spotted him, a slow grin creeping onto his face.

“But of course I did Papa! Little Raoul _was_ always getting into trouble. I believe that it is a brother’s duty to keep any trouble making younger siblings in line.” He winked at Raoul, pulling away from his father and strolling over to meet the Vicomte. He paused, looking down at his younger brother.

“Since when do you wear sequins?”

“None of your business Philippe. If you’ve only come to ridicule me, you can leave.”Raoul snapped, turning away with a small huff. Philippe seemed unfazed, but their father whirled around.

“Raoul! That is no way to speak to your family!” He was about to continue when Philippe raised his hand. The Comte circled his brother slowly, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Where have you been running off to Raoul? Be honest with me...” He said gently, but there was no mistaking the venom in his voice. He gripped Raoul’s shoulders tightly, holding the younger in place. Raoul bit his lip, turning his gaze down to his shoes. What would he say? Philippe always knew when he was lying.

“He said that he had been going to visit a man who lived below this very Opera.”Monsieur de Chagny muttered, folding his arms across his chest. Philippe raised an eyebrow, looking between his father and brother, chewing his lip in thought. Raoul shuffled uncomfortably, glancing helplessly at Mme. Giry, who merely shrugged and turned away.

“Is this true Raoul?” Philippe asked after a moment, turning back to face his brother. Raoul looked up at him, slowly shaking his head. Philippe’s features darkened slightly, and he grabbed the front of Raoul’s vest, pulling the Vicomte closer. “Do not lie to me Raoul.” He snarled threateningly, “Tell me the truth...”

“You want the truth Comte? Very well. Young Raoul has been frequenting my home.” The room fell silent, everyone turning to seek out the being who had spoken. “And I would much prefer if you released my Vicomte.” Raoul couldn’t help but smile, glancing around to see if he could spot the Phantom. Philippe on the other hand, scoffed and tightened his grip on Raoul’s vest.

“ _Your_ Vicomte? Firstly monsieur, he is not a possession and secondly, he is my brother. I may do what I please with him.”Raoul growled at his brother, though the elder paid him no attention. His gaze was fixed on the figure that remained in the shadows, a full mask covering his face. Philippe immediately pulled Raoul close to him, wrapping his arms around the Vicomte. The figure stiffened, but did not move.

“Are you the man who my _darling_ brother has been visiting?” The Comte demanded, glaring coolly at the figure. Raoul rolled his eyes, squirming uncomfortably against his brother.

“Who else would it be you fool?” He hissed, looking helplessly over to Erik, who still had not moved from the shadows. Philippe smiled darkly, releasing Raoul and turning to the figure.

“So, you’re the one who’s been stealing Raoul away?”

“Not stealing monsieur. He comes and goes of his own free will.” Erik replied calmly. Philippe snorted, briefly glancing to Raoul before turning back to Erik.

“His own free will you say? How can we be certain of that?”

“Philippe, stop...”

“I wasn’t talking to you Raoul!” The Comte snarled, “How are we certain that you aren’t threatening him?” Erik chuckled, finally stepping from the shadows. Philippe stiffened, stepping away from the Phantom and growling softly. Erik smirked under his mask, stopping just short of the group.

“Monsieur, allowing the Vicomte to visit is not threatening him. This is.” Without another word, Erik pulled out his Punjab and looped it around Raoul’s neck, pulling the Vicomte back. Philippe and Monsieur de Chagny jumped forward, calling out to Erik. Raoul was gripping the lasso tightly, his eyes wide.

“Release him!” Philippe demanded, stepping forward with a snarl. Erik chuckled, shaking his head as he moved back, dragging Raoul with him.

“Now why would I do that? I’ve gained a...fondness for the young Vicomte.” He purred, wrapping an arm around Raoul’s waist and holding him close. The boy blushed softly, turning away from his family. Philippe and Monsieur de Chagny paled, exchanging a worried glance. Erik smirked, stopping at the foot of the stairs and using his free hand to hold the end of the banister.

“Well, this has been fun, though I really must be going. I have what I came for...” He trailed off, adjusting his grip on Raoul’s waist. “So I bid you all a farewell!” And with that, the pair vanished.

* * *

 

“What in God’s name was that!?” Raoul snapped, yanking the Punjab off. The boy held his neck, glaring over at Erik with a livid expression. The Phantom stood and dusted himself off, sighing heavily.

“I’m sorry Raoul...I didn’t feel comfortable with you near him.” He admitted softy, gathering his lasso, not daring to look up at Raoul. The Vicomte grit his teeth, taking several deep breaths. Erik glanced up at him, face falling behind his mask. “Raoul...”

“No no...It’s fine. I just would have liked some warning before you kidnapped me.”The Vicomte sighed, turning to the Phantom and smiling weakly. He stepped forward, taking the man’s hands and kissing his cheek.

“I would have, but it wouldn’t have been fun.” Erik shrugged, chuckling softly. Raoul rolled his eyes, lightly smacking Erik’s arm and starting to walk off, the Phantom falling in step behind him.

* * *

 

Philippe stared at the spot where his brother and the Phantom had vanished, his jaw hanging open. After a moment he rounded on Mme. Giry, his brown eyes blazing.

“Where is he?” The Comte demanded, stalking up to her and getting into her face. “Where has that man taken Raoul?” Mme. Giry remained calm, pushing Philippe away and smoothing down her dress.

“I don’t know monsieur.” She replied calmly, turning away from Philippe. The Comte cursed, turning away and pacing about, disappearing into his own thoughts. Andre and Firmin had run off in a pointless attempt to go find Raoul, thought the remaining three were certain they wouldn’t find the Vicomte. A silence fell over the small group, broken only by Philippe’s muttering and curses. Monsieur de Chagny walked to Mme. Giry, his stony mask broken by a father’s worry.

“Madam, please speak truthfully...Will my son be alright?”

“I cannot promise you anything monsieur...The Phantom is a hard man to understand.”She replied simply, trying to ignore the panic that flashed across Monsieur de Chagny’s face. Philippe stopped in his tracks, looking up slowly.

“He is no man....He is a monster.” He muttered, looking around the foyer before nodding. “And he must be treated as such.” He smiled darkly, spinning to face his father. “Papa, I will lead a group of men down there. We will kill the monster and bring Raoul back.” Mme. Giry’s eyes widened and she stepped forward to protest.

“But monsieur Le Comte!”

“And you, Mme. Giry...Will be the one to lead us to him.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

"Philippe will come looking for me, I hope you realize." Raoul muttered, turning to face Erik, who was trying to locate his half mask. The Phantom nodded, seemingly not paying attention to what the Vicomte was saying. Raoul sighed, rolling his eyes and tapping Erik on the shoulder.

"Are you even listening to me?" The Vicomte demanded, folding his arms across his chest. Erik finally looked up from his search, dusting off his pants as he stood.

"Of course I am Vicomte." He replied simply, offering a small smile before turning away again. Raoul sighed, grumbling softly and pacing about. Erik, having finally located his mask, pulled the cover back into place and walked up behind Raoul, placing a tender hand on the boy's shoulder. Raoul turned slowly, curiously tilting his head. Instead of speaking, Erik led the boy to the other side of the music room, nudging open a door.

The room beyond was simple, housing nothing but a table, music stand and a large bed. Raoul assumed this must be Erik's own room, as the Vicomte had never once seen it before. The boy looked up at the Phantom, confusion written clearly on his features. Once again, the elder did not speak. He led the Vicomte over to the bed, pulling him closer with easy step. Raoul recognized the gesture and blushed, leaning against Erik's chest and shivering.

"You're acting rather strange." The Vicomte muttered, his voice muffled by the fabric of Erik's shirt. The Phantom shrugged, combing his fingers idly through Raoul's hair.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean." He mused after a moment. Raoul looked up, frowning softly.

"How can you not understand? It's rather clear to me. You're distant, you aren't listening to a word I say..."

"And how is that acting strange?" Erik questioned with a playful smirk. Raoul rolled his eyes, grumbling and shoving Erik back onto the bed. The Phantom grinned, sitting up and grabbing the Vicomte's arm, pulling the boy down with him.

Raoul smiled brightly, moving to straddle Erik’s waist as his hands feverishly went to unbutton the Phantom’s shirt. Erik chuckled quietly, reclining back and letting the Vicomte work without interruption. As soon as he was able to, Raoul stripped Erik of all of his clothes from the waist up, nipping and licking at the newly exposed skin with fervour. Erik’s hands slipped downwards to tangle his fingers into the fop’s hair, tugging at it lightly when Raoul let slip a soft moan. Raoul’s breathing became slightly deeper and shakier, to which Erik smirked at and flipped their positions. The Vicomte gasped softly, not expecting the movement, but he knew Erik liked to take charge.

“Come now Vicomte, surely by now you know that _I’m_ in charge here” Erik growled sensually in Raoul’s ear. The boy below him shivered in pleasure at the tone, and Erik cocked an eyebrow “Do you like that, boy? Being below me, so to speak?” he asked, licking the shell of Raoul’s ear before promptly biting down on it. The Vicomte made almost a whimpering noise “Y-Yes... Yes Erik” he breathed, eyes beginning to flutter shut in the pleasure. “You, my love, are wearing entirely too many clothes” the Phantom smiled, tugging at Raoul’s shirt, which the Vicomte happily (and hurriedly) removed.

Erik sucked at the boy’s nipples, tugging on them with his teeth rather sharply. Raoul bucked his hips upwards, only to find Erik’s hands pinning them down sharply, and he whined softly. “You’ll take what pleasure I give you when I give it to you” the Phantom warned, watching as Raoul nodded and tried to control his growingly erratic breathing. With another tug, this time at Raoul’s pants, the boy stripped himself completely. Raoul moved his hands to try and finish undressing Erik as well, but the Phantom’s hands stopped him. Erik kissed Raoul forcefully, while one of the Phantom’s hands slipped downwards to tug at Raoul’s arousal, to which the boy gasped sharply at.

Erik slowly pumped Raoul’s growing erection, watching as the Vicomte’s hips rolled softly “O-Oh…. Erik….” he moaned. The Phantom smirked, rubbing his lover harder and faster, until he noticed Raoul’s head tilted back and his lips parted lightly in pure ecstasy. He suddenly took his hands off of the boy, leaning back a little. Raoul sat up quickly, whimpering softly at the loss of the touch “E-Erik… _Please_ ” the boy begged “Touch me… t-take me…. Anything!”. Erik cocked his head to the side, as though considering it, before silently slipping out of his remain clothes and slowly moving his fingers to tease the boy’s entrance. Raoul moaned loudly, not caring about his dignity as he desperately tried to thrust on to Erik’s fingers. Erik, however, didn’t budge, and consistently kept Raoul on the edge of the pleasure the fop sought.

It was a few moments later, when a ‘please’ so desperate and almost broken spilled from Raoul’s lips that Erik could tease him no longer, and quickly shoved in to the Vicomte, giving him only a few seconds to adjust before thrusting hard and fast, his own primal instincts taking control of his actions. Raoul begged and pleaded incoherently, as he gripped the Phantom’s shoulders in a vain attempt to stay grounded. Erik could feel that they were both close, even after such little stimulation, but he forced himself to hold out longer, because he refused to come to his release before the boy.

The young Vicomte’s breathing became heavier and more and more ragged, and Erik slipped a hand down to tug at Raoul’s arousal, helping the boy to come to his release faster, because he himself was dangerously close. Almost seconds later, Raoul came hard in to Erik’s hand, his body shaking with ecstasy as he tightened around Erik, causing the Phantom to come as well. The Phantom collapsed on top of Raoul as they both shakily recovered, their hot breath mixing together in a deep, passionate kiss.

Erik untangled himself from Raoul, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. Raoul mewled, stretching out and sitting up with a small wince.

"Where're you going?" The boy slurred, rubbing his eyes with a small yawn. Erik didn't respond, leaving the room and returning several moments later with two glasses of wine. Raoul raised an eyebrow, but accepted his glass without a comment. The pair sat in silence, content on catching their breath and drinking. After a while, Raoul frowned, setting down his glass and whimpering. Erik looked up at him, tilting his head with a frown.

"Raoul, is everything alright?" He asked, leaning forward. The Vicomte squirmed, biting his lip with a tiny wince.

"I feel...ill." He breathed, shaking his head. Erik moved forward, resting a gentle hand on the Vicomte's shoulder.

"Perhaps you should rest..." He said gently, though something seemed off. Raoul frowned, tilting his head and looking at Erik, who had turned his gaze away and was muttering something to himself. The Vicomte bit his lip, turning away and snatching his glass, looking down at its half-finished contents. The left over wine was slightly clouded, and it finally clicked.

"Poison..." The Vicomte breathed, his eyes widening in horror, "You've poisoned me." Erik turned away, remaining silent. Raoul's expression changed to one of sheer anger and he threw his glass across the room, pouncing at Erik and wrapping his fingers around the man's neck. "You bastard! How could you?" He shrieked, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I thought you cared! How could you Erik? How...Could...You...."

* * *

 

"I will take you this far, no further." Mme. Giry said, standing at the top of the stairs and crossing her arms. Philippe snarled, looking down into the darkness. He squinted, trying to make out the bottom step.

"Very well Madame. Chretien, the lights." The Comte snapped, turning back to the group. A large man stepped forward, holding out a lantern to the Comte. The man nodded his thanks before turning back to the stairs, stepping down onto the first one. He paused when he felt a hand on his shoulder, glancing over to see Mme. Giry.

"Be careful monsieur...He will not give in easily." She warned, before releasing Philippe and walking back the way they had all come. The Comte rolled his eyes, turning and making his way cautiously down the stairs, careful not to slip on whatever substance coated them. He stopped at the bottom, turning back to wait for the rest of his team.

"You must split up to search for the entrance. Stay within earshot of one another, and call out if you find anything." He ordered, watching as the group trickled down the various dark hallways, until he was left standing on his own. Finally left to his own thoughts, the Comte allowed himself to worry. He looked down one of the hallways, biting his lip.

"Please be alright..."

The search took much longer than anticipated. Hours passed, yet not a voice called out. Philippe was beginning to worry, pacing around the narrow hallway. The Comte was beginning to lose hope, thinking that they wouldn't find anything, or that they would be too late. He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Monsieur le Comte!" A young boy hollered, rounding the corner and nearly colliding with Philippe. The boy doubled over, gasping for air. "Th-they found it monsieur. They found the way in." Philippe's eyes widened, as he demanded that the boy lead him there at once.

 


	8. Chapter 8

It was chaos. Simple, wonderful chaos. Erik watched in an amused silence as Philippe's men tore into his lair, calling out for Raoul. Of course, the Vicomte wouldn't respond, not in his current state. Erik's smile widened as Philippe entered, his rapier drawn. The Comte walked to the bank of the lake, before turning and looking over the room. He cleared his throat, drawing in his men.

"Search each room. If you don't find either of them, burn it." He commanded, not looking to his men. Erik scoffed, rolling his eyes. If the fool thought setting fire to a few things would make him come out, he was completely wrong. The Phantom watched as the group once again split up, hurrying in different directions. Several moments slipped by in silence, broken only by men calling out.

"Monsieur le Comte, the music...What do we do with it?"

"Destroy it." Philippe replied coolly, pacing about the room. Erik smirk fell, only to be replaced by a look of rage. He stepped out of his hiding place, pulling his own rapier free. The sound of the blade being unsheathed made Philippe pause, then turn with a small smile.

“There you are...” He cooed darkly, “I was beginning to think you weren’t home.”

“Well here I am,” Erik replied, opening his arms with a shrug. “I simply couldn’t leave you down here on your own...Who knows what sort of trouble you may have started?”

“Oh, I don’t know...Fire really does help to liven the place up.” Philippe sneered, circling Erik. The Phantom shrugged indifferently, looking around.

“I find it to be a slight annoyance.” Philippe smirked, stepping forward and tapping Erik’s blade. The pair circled each other, their blades pressed together. The sound of grinding steel caused the other men to stop their search and turn to the fight. Soon the two duelers stepped away from one another, saluting sharply. They stood in silence, never breaking eye contact. Finally, one of them moved.

Philippe lunged forward, his blade leading. Erik snarled and beat the Comte’s blade aside, swiping down to slash the man’s leg. Philippe hissed in pain, stumbling past the Phantom and hitting the wall. His men stepped forward, calling out in anger.

“No, leave him! He is mine!” Philippe barked, staggering to his feet with a feral gleam in his eyes. His men faltered, stepping away from the two and stowing their drawn guns. Philippe snarled again, turning back to face Erik, who looked up from his rapier with a smirk.

“Are you done scolding your loyal hounds Comte?” The Phantom cooed, grinning slyly. Philippe’s men shuffled and cursed, growling softly. Erik turned to face them with a raised eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest.

“I must say Philippe, they are wonderfully trained.” He stepped closer to the group, not noticing as Philippe moved around behind him. The Phantom sighed, quickly becoming bored of taunting the men and turning back to where Philippe had stood, only to find the space empty.

“Where has your master run off to lads? Do you think perhaps I frightened him off?” He cooed, turning back to the men and sheathing his blade. He sighed gently, shaking his head. “It’s a pity really...I’m almost disappointed in how quickly he fled.”

“You won’t be disappointed for long.” Philippe’s voice growled. Erik hardly had time to turn around and spot the Comte before a searing pain stabbed into his stomach. The Phantom gasped, eyes widening as Philippe twisted his blade, snarling dangerously. After a moment of silence, Erik’s eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped back, the rapier sliding out of his torso with a sickening sucking sound.

The group remained dead silent, gazing down at the man’s body, nobody daring to move closer. Philippe let out a long sigh, dropping his weapon and allowing it to clatter to the stone floor.

“It’s done...” He breathed, looking down to his trembling hands and swallowing the lump in his throat. Slowly, the life returned to the group, soft murmurings breaking the deathly silence. “Keep looking...We aren’t leaving until we’ve found him.” The Comte muttered as he turned and limped away. One of them, the man who had given Philippe the light moved closer, kneeling beside the Comte and starting to work on the slash on his leg. Philippe didn’t look up at him, staring blindly across the lake.

“Here! Here! We’ve found him!” A voice called after several moments of silence. Philippe’s head snapped up and he jumped to his feet, sprinting to the voice. He whipped into the room, his eyes wide.

“Where?”He demanded, a crazed gleam coming to his eyes. His men fell silent, taking a small step away from a bed. The Comte stepped forward, looking at his men before turning his gaze down. He felt his heart drop from his chest, shattering as it reached the ground.

“Oh god no...”


	9. Chapter 9

“Is he...breathing?” Someone asked, breaking the silence. Philippe swallowed the lump in his throat, sitting on the edge of the bed. When he reached for his brother’s still form, his hand met with cold, clammy skin. Philippe cringed, pulling Raoul closer and leaning forward, his ear hovering over the Vicomte’s month. There is was; a very faint breath that rushed past the Comte’s ear.

“He’s alive, but barely. We need to get him out of here...” Philippe replied, looking up at the group. “Two of you. Carry him.” He said as he turned, hurrying from the room. Two of the men stepped forward, supporting Raoul’s weight between them. The Vicomte stirred briefly and his eyes fluttered open. Raoul jolted awake, a muffled curse flying from his lips. Philippe spun around, racing back into the room to embrace his brother, who still looked very confused.

“Philippe...” Raoul breathed, tilting his head with a small frown. “Has he killed you as well?” Philippe shook his head, laughing weakly.

“No Raoul, no...We are both very much alive. The fiend is dead Raoul! You need no longer fear him!” At first, Raoul was completely still. Then he began to weep. He buried his face in his brother’s shoulder, trembling uncontrollably. Philippe frowned, holding his brother close and trying to calm him. After several moments, Raoul finally found his voice.

“H-how could you?” He demanded, squirming slightly to get away from his brother. Philippe frowned and leaned back, holding his brother at arm’s length, keeping a firm hold on Raoul’s shoulders.

“How could I...What?” Raoul lifted his gaze, frowning through his tears. Before Philippe could ask again, the Vicomte began to laugh bitterly. The men gathered around the brothers took a startled step back, casting nervous glances at one another. Raoul finally fell silent, slumping forward against Philippe’s chest, as if the simple act of laughing had drained whatever energy he had left. Slowly, he lifted his head to look Philippe in the eyes before speaking.

“I...I loved him...” He muttered, before falling back under the influence of the drug. The group remained in a stunned silence for several minutes, nervously eyeing Philippe and Raoul. Philippe held tightly on to his brother as he tried to wrap his head around this new fact.

“It was the drugs” Phillippe said suddenly, startling everyone out of their dreamlike trance. “That was simply the drugs speaking. Ignore that, and anything else he may say on the way back.” With that said the Comte eased his brother back into his men’s waiting arms and stood, shaking his head sadly. “We leave now.” He said to his men, turning on his heels and striding down the corridor. The group fell into step behind him, starting the long walk back to the surface.

The walk back to the surface was far easier than the way down. Two men went ahead; lighting the way and being certain the group did not stray off the correct path. However, to say it was easier did not mean it was much shorter. It still took the better part of two hours for the group to arrive where they had first started. Philippe sent a boy ahead to alert the others of his successful return.

They didn’t have to wait long. Hardly five minutes had passed when the managers, Mme. Giry and Monsieur de Chagny came hurrying down the hall. The managers went straight to Philippe, asking a dozen questions at the same time. Philippe pushed passed the two, ignoring their questions and instead choosing to stand by his father. Monsieur de Chagny was looking down at his youngest son’s still frame with a horrified expression.

“He is alive.” Philippe said softly, gripping his father’s shoulder.  “He is just asleep. The animal drugged him.” At this statement, Raoul began to stir once again, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

“Raoul mon enfant...Can you hear me?” The Vicomte’s blue eyes flickered open, locking onto his father’s gaze. Monsieur de Chagny knelt beside his son, eyes beginning to water. He moved forward cautiously, wrapping his arms around his youngest and pulling him into a tight embrace. This sent Raoul into a fresh round of tears, and the Vicomte buried his face into his father’s shirt, clutching the fabric as though his life depended on it.

“He needs time away papa...” Philippe whispered, resting a shaking hand on his father’s shoulder. Monsieur de Chagny looked up from his vain attempt to console Raoul, nodding in agreement. Philippe straightened up, sending Andre off to fetch a carriage. As everyone began to more again, Mme. Giry walked over to stand beside Raoul and his father.

“If I may have a brief word with your son, monsieur?” She asked, already kneeling beside Raoul. Monsieur de Chagny frowned, looking between the two before he rose and walked away to help Philippe. Raoul turned to look up at Mme. Giry, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

“You were right...He is dead” The Vicomte whispered, wringing his hands in his lap and fighting back a new wave of tears. Mme. Giry sighed heavily, placing her own hands over Raoul’s, drawing his attention to her.

“Things seem bad now Vicomte, but you have to remember Erik is no normal human being.” The use of ‘is’ instead of ‘was’ caught Raoul’s attention, but before he was able to ask about it, Mme. Giry stood to straighten her skirt. She turned to leave, tapping her cane against the ground.

“Remember Vicomte...he is an illusionist. Not everything you saw, or  _didn’t_  see, is real.”


	10. Chapter 10

Raoul awoke to a gentle knocking on his door. He sighed heavily, rolling over and drawing the blanket up over his head. He had been in the de Chagny summer home for nearly a month, and despite his countless protests, Philippe still refused to let him return to the city, and more importantly, to the Opera. The knocking persisted, even as Raoul tried desperately to block out the noise and escape once more into his dreams.

“I don’t believe I requested a wake up Pierre...” He growled, vaguely aware of the door opening and closing, and of the footsteps crossing the room to his bedside. The bed shifted as someone lowered them self down beside the Vicomte. “Pierre! What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?” Raoul snapped, throwing the covers off his head in order to glare at where the butler sat. Or...should have been sitting.

A figure dressed in all black, a large hat concealing the majority of their face, sat on the edge of Raoul’s bed. The Vicomte yelped, jolting back with wide eyes and reaching for the pistol on his bed-side table. The figure turned to face him, a glint of white just barely visible under their hat.

“Really now Vicomte, is that any way to treat a guest?” A deep voice purred. Raoul froze, his fingers hovering over the pistol. He turned slowly to face the figure on his bed, his throat suddenly dry. “Honestly Raoul? It’s hardly been a month, and you’ve already forgotten me?” Moving carefully, as not to frighten the Vicomte, the figure reached up to remove their hat. The first thing Raoul noticed were the eyes. Those dangerous, intelligent...golden, eyes.

“Erik!” The Vicomte exclaimed, diving forward into the man’s arms. Erik pulled Raoul close against his chest, clutching at the fabric of the boy’s nightshirt.  “Y-you aren’t dead...” Raoul breathed, lifting his head to look up at Erik. The Phantom smiled, shaking his head. Suddenly, Raoul’s eyes hardened and he leaned back. Before Erik could speak, Raoul had drawn back his fist and punched the Phantom’s jaw.

“You bastard!” He snapped as Erik jolted back, hand flying up to his jaw. Raoul glared at him, trembling with rage. “You had me believe that you had poisoned me, only to go and get yourself stabbed!” Tears had begun to prick at the Vicomte’s eyes as he struggled to understand. Erik slowly lowered his hand to rest on Raoul’s thigh. The Vicomte blinked, looking down at the hand as through it had just grown out of his leg.

“Look at me Vicomte....Raoul.” Erik’s voice was soft, yet still commanding enough to receive a glance from the boy seated in front of him. “It was all for your own good...It was all to keep you safe.”

“B-but...”

“No ‘buts’ Vicomte. You must trust me on this.” When Raoul looked ready to protest again, Erik leaned down to pull him into a deep, passionate kiss. Raoul stiffened momentarily before he relaxed into Erik’s arms, returning the kiss with a vengeance.

Just as Erik rolled to pin Raoul, there was yet another knock at the door. The noise startled the pair, freezing the, in place. There was a moment’s pause, before another there was another knock.

“Monsieur le Vicomte? Is everything alright?” A woman’s voice drifted through the wood. Raoul cursed under his breath, glancing between the door and to Erik. With a small nod, Raoul turned his attention back to the door.

“Yes Madeline. Everything is alright.”

“Would the Vicomte like anything?” Madeline called in response, beginning to open the door.

“No!” Raoul squeaked, before he caught himself and cleared his throat. “No thank you Madeline. Just some privacy should suffice.” The door stopped moving, and a small sigh could be heard.

“Yes, of course Monsieur.” Raoul and Erik remained frozen in place, waiting until the footsteps faded into silence. Raoul was the first to move, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. Erik laughed weakly, shaking his head and looking back down at Raoul.

“Should I be worried about further interruptions?” The Vicomte shook his head, smiling brightly.

“No, of course not. They know better than to bother me now.”

“Excellent.” Erik grinned, leaning down once again to pull Raoul into a fierce kiss. Raoul squeaked in surprise before eagerly returning the kiss, draping his arms around Erik’s shoulders, fingers clawing at the fabric of the man’s shirt. Raoul broke the kiss, leaning back with a breathy laugh.

“What?” Erik frowned, tilting his head slightly.

“Do you promise not to drug me this time?” Erik blinked, before nodding with a reserved smile.

“I promise.”

“Good.”

* * *

 

Raoul unhooked his legs from around Erik’s waist, slowly rolling off of him and back on to the mattress, smiling lazily. Erik pulled away long enough to grab his trousers, tugging them on before laying back down next to Raoul. There was a long silence as the two caught their breath, happy to be in each other’s company.

“Erik, may I ask you a question?” Raoul asked, rolling over and propping himself up onto his elbows to look at him.

“You just did.” Erik’s grin widened as Raoul rolled over with an exasperated groan. “Oh come now Vicomte, you know I jest.” Raoul grabbed a pillow, rolling over again to whack Erik with it.

“I am aware.” The Vicomte smirked. “Now, are you going to be difficult, or can I ask my question?” When Erik opened his mouth to reply, Raoul threateningly raised the pillow again. Erik paused, closing his mouth before he nodded slowly. Raoul, who was looking rather proud of himself, set the pillow aside.

“How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Die....and yet, not die.” Raoul replied, looking expectantly up at Erik. The Phantom paused, a sly gleam coming to his eyes.

“Oh that? Really Vicomte...” He chuckled, sitting up and letting the blanket fall off of his bare shoulders. “Where did your brother say he stabbed me?” Raoul chewed his lip, trying to think back to the one visit from his brother where Philippe had explained, in vivid detail what had occurred that night.

“The stomach...But I fail to see how that matters.” He replied, tilting his head and moving forward. Erik’s torso had no signs of even a scratch, never mind a fatal wound. As Raoul traced a hand over where the gaping wound  _should_  have been, Erik chuckled.

“Your brother has terrible aim when he’s distraught.”

“B-but, the blood...”

“It was yours." Raoul blinked, jerking away slightly.

“Excuse me? Did you just....What?” Erik chuckled, shaking his head and offering Raoul an apologetic smile.

“Hence the reason I drugged you. I couldn’t take my own, too risky for the fight. And well, I knew you wouldn’t have been willing to let me if you had been conscious.” Raoul looked down at his arm, visibly paling as he traced over where his veins could be seen.

“So....You knew they were coming to kill you?” He asked after a moment of stunned silence. Erik nodded slowly. “So why didn’t you just leave?”

“Because I wanted them to leave me alone. And they wouldn’t if they knew I was still living, so...”

“You faked your own death.” Raoul finished, shaking his head in disbelief. “You brilliant git.” He muttered, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Erik’s cheek. The two would have continued, had there not been a frantic knocking at the door.

“Monsieur le Vicomte! Your father and brother are here to see you, sir.” Raoul groaned, smacking his head against the wall. Erik had already climbed out of the bed, and was searching around the room for his discarded clothing.

“Tell them I will be with them in just a moment!” Raoul called back, throwing the covers off of himself and joining Erik in the search for their clothing. Finding his shirt and pulling it on, Raoul turned to where Erik stood, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Where will you go?” The Vicomte asked, crossing the room to wrap his arms around Erik’s middle. He felt the older man’s arms wrap around him, felt the sigh as it rushed past his ear.

“Where I’ve always gone.”

“Back to the Opera?” Raoul asked, drawing back with a small smile. Erik nodded, leaning down to steal a brief kiss from the Vicomte.

“Yes, but nobody must know I am there, alright? I am dead to the world, and I’d rather it stay that way.” Raoul nodded, jumping away from Erik as there was another knock at the door.

“Raoul, is everything alright?” This time, it was Philippe’s voice.

“Yes Philippe, all is well! Allow me another moment to freshen up, and I will be right with you.” Raoul called back, smiling to himself. Satisfied that he had another few moments to Erik and himself, he turned back around, only to find that the other man had vanished. Where The Phantom had stood, a single piece of paper lay. Stooping down to pick it up, Raoul sighed, unable to hide his grin. He held the paper up to the light, his eyes scanning over the graceful, elegant writing.

_You know where to find me. Come at your earliest convenience. Be sure you are not followed.  O.G._

Stashing the paper quickly under his pillow, Raoul quickly checked himself in the mirror, smoothing his hair down before crossing the room. He opened the door to his family, putting on his practised smile. Perhaps he could finally convince them to let him return to his position at the Opera; or at the very least, allow him to leave this dreadful house. Besides, he had a masked man waiting for him. 


End file.
